


toilet bowl syphilis

by thekardemomme



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Affectionate Insults, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Bathrooms, First Dates, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-08 08:31:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12250749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekardemomme/pseuds/thekardemomme
Summary: Isak is drunk and crying in a bathroom stall in the middle of London when another Norwegian happens to walk in.(discontinued indefinitely)





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

> i fully blame, like, all my friends for encouraging my 3am writing and telling me im funny when im not
> 
> massive thanks to the love of my life rino for reading this over!

To put it simply, this is not Isak’s proudest moment. It’s not even on the list of his proudest moments, really. Crying in a gross public bathroom in the middle of fucking London isn’t his ideal Saturday night, and yet here he is, probably catching syphilis from the toilet seat and sniffling into thin fucking toilet paper. He hates himself a bit more than usual for this stunt, because his friends are out having a good time, probably hooking up with some pretty English girls, and Isak’s, well. He’s doing this.

Honestly, Isak blames Jonas for this whole situation. It was Jonas’s idea to go clubbing, it was Jonas’s choice of club. And it was that club’s bouncers that kicked Isak out. But it wasn’t Isak’s fucking fault. He was just dancing and drinking and minding his own damn business when the guy approached him, and pointed out the rainbow pin on his jacket. It was the guy who started harassing Isak, being homophobic as all hell, and he _deserved_ the punches Isak gave him. And if the bouncers had taken a second to listen to Isak’s side of things instead of just kicking Isak out then maybe he wouldn’t be alone in the middle of a fucking city, lost amongst people whose language he barely speaks.

Fuck Jonas. Fuck Mahdi and Magnus, too. Fuck the bouncers. Fuck alcohol for inebriating all of them. And fuck that stupid homophobe who provoked Isak and then blamed him for starting the whole altercation. Fuck all of them, fuck this whole entire night. Isak just wants to go the fuck home at this point.

He’s in the middle of seriously looking up flights when he hears the door to the bathroom swing open, hitting the tiled walls. Isak immediately stops crying, covering his mouth to quieten himself. He strains his ears—trying to see if it’s his friends—to listen for the stranger. All he can hear is the stranger’s pacing footsteps, and a voice that sounds distant, like it’s coming through a phone. And while Isak can’t quite make out what Phone Voice is saying, he can tell they’re not the happiest.

“What the fuck do you mean you forgot, Mikael?! How do you fucking forget to do that shit?!” The person in the bathroom literally yells, and Isak’s eyes widen. This stranger is speaking Norwegian, like, well. Like _native speaker_ well. Isak is shook. He pulls his feet up off of the ground so the Norwegian Stranger doesn’t see his shoes.

There’s a pause, and more steps. Norwegian Stranger has come closer to the stall Isak is huddled in, and now he can hear everything Phone Voice (Mikael?) is saying. Both a blessing and a curse, because despite that, he’s also at a higher risk of Norwegian Stranger finding out Isak is here eavesdropping.

_“I forgot, okay?! What do you want me to say? I’m sorry, bro, really. I didn’t do it on purpose.”_

“It doesn’t matter whether or not you meant to do it!” Norwegian Stranger argues. “That doesn’t make it any less fucked up! You’ve known for actual weeks that you were meant to book those flights, Mikael. Weeks. You knew, I made sure you knew. This is you being irresponsible yet again.”

_“Again?!”_

Norwegian Stranger scoffs, and paces more. Thankfully, he doesn’t go too far. The bathroom isn’t that big anyway. “Do you not fucking remember two months ago when you miraculously forgot to pay your half of the goddamn deposit? Or last month when you lost your password to get into your bank account? Or, also last month, when you lost your fucking keys at the zoo because you thought it’d be a good idea to hand them to a fucking chimpanzee?!”

Isak fights the urge to laugh at that, pressing his hand tighter over his mouth. Who the hell is this guy and how the hell is his friend Mikael such a human disaster? Well, Isak relates (as a fellow human disaster), but he also would like to think he wouldn’t literally offer up his keys to a chimp at the zoo.

At the most, he’d smuggle in a banana to feed them.

_“When are you going to let the chimp thing go?”_

Norwegian Stranger sighs at the exact same time a small laugh slips out of Isak. Isak takes a deep breath and thanks all the gods he doesn’t believe in for his pure fucking luck. He can only imagine how pissed Norwegian Stranger would be if he found out someone had been eavesdropping on his fucking conversation this whole entire time, like he’s some sort of reality show.

He may not be doing this for entertainment, but Isak is thoroughly entertained. He wants to know more. Like, for instance, what Mikael fucked up this time. In addition, he wouldn’t mind knowing if Norwegian Stranger is as hot as his voice sounds. But that’s a whole other thought that Isak pushes to the back of his head, his bad experience in the club coming to mind. He swallows hard and focuses on Norwegian Stranger and Mikael.

“Those tickets could’ve been booked weeks ago, man. Now we’re stuck in London for god knows how long. I have actual responsibilities at home, you know, and I’m going to have to explain to my fucking manager and my professors that I’m stuck in London because my friend is a dumbass and didn’t book our flights like he was supposed to. Thanks a lot.”

_“Oh, my god, bro. You’re being so dramatic. I’ll buy tickets in the morning and we’ll be back in Oslo in, like, two days. Okay? Now, I’ve got to go, I’m trying to talk to this cute guy and yelling at you over the phone isn’t making me look good.”_

It takes all of Isak’s willpower not to burst out laughing at that, because how fucking relatable. Norwegian Stranger, however, seems to disagree. He sighs heavily and says, “I honestly can’t believe this is actually happening right now. I can’t believe you really just said that to me like I’m the one somehow inconveniencing you. This is blowing my fucking mind.” And yeah, Isak relates to that, too.

The boys will _never_ believe this.

_“He’s really hot! You’d agree with me if you were here. He’s got, like, super curly hair, and these cute eyebrows. He’s drunk as hell and ranting to the bartender about capitalism, bro. Don’t cockblock me. Well, wait, that came out wrong. Obviously I wouldn’t sleep with him because he’s drunk but I could try to get his number and see if he’d be willing to meet me sober and we could see if—”_

“Mikael!” Norwegian Stranger interrupts, and Isak nearly falls off the toilet from silently laughing so hard. This is fucking hysterical. It belongs in a comedy film. “I don’t care about the hot guy! I care about the fact that I have classes on Monday and we were supposed to be flying out of London tomorrow to get home on time! That’s what the fuck I care about, you damn pumpkin!”

God, Isak loses it. He has to put his feet back down on the ground (silently, mind you) so he can double over and fucking cackle, hand pressed so tightly to his mouth that there will probably be finger marks there for a couple of hours. _You damn pumpkin._ What an iconic insult, one Isak will definitely have to ingrain into his daily vocabulary.

_“Dude, if I looked up ‘dramatic’ in the dictionary, I’d find a picture of you.”_

“Well at least my dictionary doesn’t have fucking pictures in it, you fucking dumb ass.”

There are tears streaming down Isak’s face and for a whole other reason this time. He no longer feels pathetic about crying in the bathroom stall, instead he feels pathetic about falling in love with a (fucking savage) stranger whilst in a bathroom stall. In the middle of London. At 3am. Is this really what his life has come to?

Isak can’t even be mad about it anymore. He’s too busy clutching his stomach and his mouth at the same time, trying to keep his laughs quiet as he quite literally dies on the germ infested toilet seat. Jesus Christ, this really does belong in a comedy film. There’s no way this is real life.

_“Chill the hell out!”_

“No! I’m so fucking baffled right now. Like buying tickets before the actual flight is just common sense!”

_“Who pissed in your fucking corn flakes this morning, damn. It’s just one day, man. It’ll be fine. Your professors will just have to get over it. Enjoy your vacation! School isn’t even that important. It’s just a few film classes.”_

Norwegian Stranger stops his pacing, standing front and center in front of Isak’s stall. Isak looks up and uncovers his mouth, listening carefully. “Honestly, Mikael, this is the dumbest shit you’ve ever said in your life. Sometimes I’m surprised you even remember to breathe, you absolute fuck trumpet,” Norwegian Stranger snaps, and Isak is done. He’s absolutely done. He bursts out laughing, completely uninhibited and not at all quiet. Norwegian Stranger doesn’t speak but Isak can’t stop fucking laughing for a solid minute.

When he finally gets a hold of himself, though, he knows he has to face the music. He tries to catch his breath as he stands up, wiping his tears on his sleeve as he unlocks the bathroom stall. Norwegian Stranger is leaning against the sinks (Isak recognizes him by the shoes), eyebrows raised and phone in hand. Isak suddenly feels guilt wash over him, and he feels like he’s the fuck trumpet, not Mikael.

“Firstly, I’m so sorry for eavesdropping,” Isak says, in Norwegian, which makes Norwegian Stranger’s eyebrows go even higher. “I was having a shit night and I heard you come in and I could understand what you were saying, and the insults were funny and I’m a little drunk and... Look, I have no excuses. And I’m really really sorry.”

Norwegian Stranger rakes his eyes over Isak a few times, and Isak feels oddly vulnerable. Norwegian Stranger is absolutely as hot as his voice sounded, tall and lanky with a chiseled jaw that Isak wouldn’t mind sitting on (but that’s a thought for later). Norwegian Stranger cocks his head to the side, a small smirk on his lips, and Isak feels his knees go a little weak. Perhaps he should’ve stayed in the stall, because he might get a bit of a situation below the belt if Norwegian Stranger keeps looking at him like that.

“It’s fine,” Norwegian Stranger replies, and all of the tension leaves Isak’s body. “My friend Mikael is just a fucking dumbass. It wasn’t anything super private, so.” He bites his lip, and Isak loses his breath. This boy is so beautiful. “My name is Even, by the way. I’m from Oslo.”

Isak holds his hand out, then realizes he just came out of a stall and didn’t yet wash his hands, so he lowers it awkwardly. He’s not trying to give Even toilet bowl syphilis. “I’m Isak. I’m also from Oslo, actually. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around. What high school did you go to?”

“Elvebakken. But I go to UiO now,” he says, and Isak nods.

“I’m in my third year at Nissen.”

“Nice,” Even says, and Isak smiles a little bit at him. “Why were you sitting in a bathroom stall, if not to use the bathroom?”

Isak sighs, and relays the whole story of the homophobic man in the club and how Isak got kicked out of the club because he let the homophobic man get the best of him. Even’s jaw clenches as he listens to the story, and he sounds both angry and sympathetic when he says he’s sorry Isak had to sit in a bathroom stall alone and cry over a homophobe without his friend there to make him feel better.

Isak, on the other hand, just shrugs. “I mean, I got him good. Hit him quite a few times. I was stronger than him. At least I won the fucking fight,” he says, and Even laughs. It’s a beautiful sound, one that Isak wouldn’t mind hearing everyday for the rest of forever.

“That’s kind of hot, I have to admit,” Even says, and Isak beans. “How long are you and your friends in London?”

“Um, just for a week. We got here on Friday, so we’ve only been here for a day,” he explains, and Even hums in acknowledgement. “But, um, hey, if you’re going to be stuck in London for an extra day, you’ve gotta find something to do, right?”

The older boy raises his eyebrows again—it seems to be a trademark of his—and lets a smile spread across his face. “Yeah, I suppose so. All of the plans I had only lasted me the three days I was here, and I already did everything I wanted to, so... Yeah,” he confirms, and Isak can’t bite back the smile no matter how hard he tries. It’s hard to do that when there’s someone as beautiful as Even is smiling at him.

“Well, if you’re interested, I’m sure I could help remedy that,” Isak offers, and Even asks him to explain. “There’s this super nice breakfast place near my hotel I’ve been meaning to try. Could I interest you in having an authentic full English breakfast, or have you already crossed that off of your London bucket list?”

“I haven’t, actually,” Even grins. “I would love to join you for a full English breakfast. I really should go find Mikael, though, so I’ll give you my number so you can text me tomorrow morning with the details.” Isak hands over his phone and Even quickly types his number in, and Isak sends a confirmation text to Even’s phone.

“Fair warning, though, I much prefer calling over texting. Feels more personal,” Isak winks, stepping towards the sink so he can wash his hands. It’s a dirty lie—calling people makes Isak sick with anxiety—but it’s a joke that makes Even smile. Isak likes his smile.

Even, disappointingly, is backing up towards the exit. “Don’t worry, I won’t be calling you a fuck trumpet over the phone,” he jokes, and Isak laughs, smiling so hard his face hurts. It’s a nice feeling, one he hasn’t felt in much too long.

“What about a _damn pumpkin_? Will you call me that?”

“Maybe,” Even winks, pulling open the door and stepping out. “Call me and find out,” he adds, and the door shuts behind him.

Isak is stuck smiling like a dopey idiot for at least a full minute, the tap still running from him washing his hands, when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He quickly rinses and then dries his hands, and then pulls out the phone to see multiple texts from Jonas asking if he’s alright.

If Jonas had asked thirty minutes ago, the answer would be no. But now, the answer was definitely yes. And hopefully it’d stay that way.


	2. part two

~~_Is 8am too early to call a boy you just met_ ~~

~~_How long to wait to call a boy_ ~~

~~_Is the three day rule really that important_ ~~

~~_How to not throw up when talking to a hot guy_ ~~

~~_Why does the universe hate me_ ~~

~~_GOOGLE TELL ME HOW TO GET A GUY ASJGSHDHS_ ~~

 

“Dude,” Isak hears, and he turns to see Jonas holding his hand over his face. “Why the fuck are you on your laptop at 8 in the fucking morning? Are you not hungover?”

Isak blinks. “No, because if you remember, I got kicked out of the club and had to go sober up in a fucking bathroom while I waited for you and the guys to decide you were tired of partying.” He glances over at Mahdi and Magnus, sharing the bed next to the one Isak and Jonas share. They’re both sound asleep, heads propped up in case they were to vomit in their sleep, courtesy of Isak because Isak is the best best friend ever. Probably. Jonas could probably give him a run for his money.

Jonas moves his hand from his face just so Isak can get a clear view of him rolling his eyes, so Isak takes it upon himself to turn his laptop towards Jonas. Jonas acts like he’s been burnt, rolling over and swearing at Isak while Isak just laughs. He deserved it.

“And anyways, I’m just trying to figure out the appropriate time frame to call a guy. I asked him to breakfast but I’m not sure if he took it seriously or just as a way for me to get his number. Like, I don’t know if I should call him this morning and make sure we’re going out, or if I should wait to, like, keep his interest. Usually everyone says to wait, right?” He asks, and he barely hears Jonas grunt in affirmation. Isak sighs. “Well, this guy is going back home tomorrow. To Oslo. So, like, it wouldn’t be impossible for me to see him once we get back to Oslo, too. But I also want to see him now and make sure he knows I’m genuinely interested in him. Is that dumb?”

Jonas rolls back over, squinting his eyes against the light of the laptop. “Dude, if this guy’s going home, you have to see him today. If he goes home without ever hearing from you, he could just assume that you were never that interested.”

“But—”

“No buts. It doesn’t make you look _desperate_ to call a boy the next day, it makes you look _interested_. And everyone likes to feel wanted. So just call him.”

Isak nods, shutting his laptop and grabbing his phone. “Yeah, okay, I’ll call him. Except, fuck, wait, it’s two minutes to 9. Do you think he’s awake?” He asks nervously, and Jonas just shrugs.

“If he’s as into you as you are into him, he’s probably been up for a while, waiting for a call to go to breakfast.”

That makes a smile carve itself onto Isak’s face, no matter how hard he fights it. He knows he was a little inebriated the night before but he’s pretty positive Even seemed just as into Isak as Isak was into him. He thinks about the way Even had smiled at him, had enticingly told Isak to _call me and find out_ , and it makes confidence surge through him. Fuck it. He was going to call.

He steps out into the hallway of the hotel, tucking himself in the corner by the ice machine. He sits down on the carpet (trying very hard not to wonder if the brown stain next to him is vomit) and opens his contacts, only hesitating slightly before pressing the call button below Even’s contact name.

It rings once, twice, three times. Four times. Anxiety curls itself in Isak’s stomach, and he’s beginning to wonder if he’s misread the entire situation—it wouldn’t be the first time nor the last time—when it rings for the fifth time.

 _“Halla, you damn pumpkin!”_ Even’s voice practically floats through the line, and Isak can’t help the relieved laugh that bubbles it’s way to the surface. Even sounds just as beautiful and happy as Isak remembers, which is good, because it meant he maybe wasn’t too drunk to get a good read on everything that happened.

“Hi,” he breathes, and he hears Even’s fond laugh, barely there. Isak bites his lip as his smile threatens to crack his cheeks. “I’ll have you know it took me an hour and a half to decide if I should call you or not.”

_“Why?”_

“Because I didn’t know if I was being desperate, or, like, if you really wanted me to call you,” Isak admits.

 _“Isak,”_ Even says, his voice all soft and sweet, like caramel. _“I’ve been up since 7am. Mikael kept yelling at me to stop staring at my phone and waiting for it to ring. He said it was going to scare your call away.”_

Isak smiles harder. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

_“Of course it isn’t, your phone doesn’t like notify you if I’m staring at—”_

“No,” Isak laughs, pressing the phone harder to his ear as if that’ll somehow bring Even closer. He wishes it would. “No, I meant I don’t think it’s possible to scare me away. I don’t know if you noticed but I was like pretty damn into you. And I still am.”

There’s quiet over the line for a few moments, and Isak doesn’t let himself get nervous. He just rubs his cheeks with his free hand, trying to get his face to stop hurting. _“Me too. God, I’m so glad to hear you say that,”_ Even finally says, and Isak tilts his head back so it hits the wall with a soft _thunk_. He feels like a teenager in a high school romance film, holding the phone so tight and smiling up at the ceiling just because of how excited he is to talk to Even.

He doesn’t feel as pathetic about it as he thought he would.

“So,” Isak practically whispers, all love drunk and silly. “Breakfast, then.”

_“Yeah. Breakfast.”_

  
When Isak steps back into the room, Jonas is still asleep. He tiptoes over to the bed and lightly shakes his shoulder, his happy smile overcome by a sheepish one when Jonas finally opens his eyes and asks what the hell Isak wants.

“I talked to Even,” Isak explains, and Jonas raises his eyebrows. “And he and I are going for breakfast at the diner down the street. He’s bringing his friend Mikael, so you should come, too. So Mikael isn’t a third wheel. And also to keep me from saying stupid shit and ruining any chance I may have of getting laid before he leaves.”

“You’re only concerned with getting laid?”

Isak rolls his eyes. “No, of course not. I want to hold his hand and braid his hair and lay in bed to cuddle him all day and spend our first Christmas together baking gingerbread cookies and building gingerbread houses and—”

Jonas waves his hands to shut Isak up, and Isak smiles because he knows he’s won. “Fine, okay, whatever, I’ll go. Just stop being so sappy and gross, it’s too early for this shit. Let me go take a shower.” Isak nearly protests because he wants Jonas to just get dressed so they can go—he’s very impatient—but when Jonas tosses aside the blankets to get up, Isak’s hit with a wall of the smell of booze, so strong he nearly gags. Maybe a shower would be a good thing.

After Isak gets ready, spending nearly fifteen minutes just deciding what to wear, he sits down on the bed and texts Even. Their conversation mostly consists of sending memes back and forth, mixed in with a bit of flirting, and Isak thinks he’s falling head over heels in love with this boy. He wonders if it’s possible to fall in love with someone so fast, someone he’s only met once. But he can’t think of any other word to describe this feeling in his chest.

He’s felt infatuation before. It’s what he felt for Jonas, for that boy from his calculus class, and for Even at one point. But this feels different, it feels stronger and greater, and surprisingly lighter than infatuation. He feels at peace when he thinks about Even; the kind of peace that comes with a suburban lifestyle with marriage and kids and a minivan. He’s never felt that kind of peaceful.. love?.. for anyone before.

When Jonas talks about Eva, he talks about an epic love story. Ups and downs and trials and tribulations, but loving each other so fiercely that they always find their way back to each other (until they didn’t anymore). It was the type of love Isak idealized for so long. And maybe it’s dumb to base his thoughts on love off of just meeting Even the night before, but what he feels for Even isn’t like that. He doesn’t feel like he could go out with a sword and shield and battle away any other possible suitors to win Even’s hand in a breakfast date. He just feels like of course he’s into Even, of course Even is also into Isak, and of course they’re going out, because nothing else would make sense.

It scares him a little. But he decides that’s a good thing. Falling can be scary, even when there’s someone waiting to catch you. Is he positive that Even is waiting to catch him? No, but it’s a risk that’s decidedly worth taking.

Jonas steps out of the bathroom, clean and clothed, and raises his eyebrows at Isak. “Are you ready to go?” He asks. Isak nods, and slips into his shoes before following Jonas out.

The walk to the diner isn’t a long one. They get there and look around, finding Even and Mikael tucked into a booth in the back. Just the sight of Even makes Isak smile, and he practically drags Jonas back there.

Even stands, pulls Isak into a hug when they get close enough. Isak hugs back, breathes in the woody smell of Even’s cologne (he thinks he picks up a hint of cigarette smoke, and he used to think smoking was gross, but the thought of Even smoking is enough to wake his dick up just a little bit. Sorry not sorry), and tries not to let Even see how nervous he is.

When they pull back, Even sweeps his arm towards Mikael, who looks like a deer caught in headlights. “And, Isak, this is the fuck trumpet himself, live and in person. Mikael, this is the new love of my life. He doesn’t know he’s the love of my life but I’ve just decided that he is.” He turns back to smile at Isak, whose own body is betraying him by blushing.

(Although, it’s good to know he’s not the only one thinking about love. Even if Even was only joking.)

“Mikael, be nice,” Even scolds, when Mikael hasn’t said anything for a while. It occurs to Isak that Jonas hasn’t said anything either, so when turns to look at his best friend, he finds a deer-in-headlights look that’s very similar to Mikael’s.

“Jonas?” Mikael chokes out, and Isak furrows his eyebrows. He and Even exchange a confused glance, and honestly, Isak is relieved he isn’t the only one that’s confused as hell.

Jonas nods. “Mikael? Oh my god.” He turns to Isak, grabbing his bicep. “That’s the guy from the club. The one I was texting you about? That’s him.”

Realization dawns over Isak, and apparently on Even, too. Isak thinks about the boy Mikael had described on the phone with Even the previous night— _He’s got, like, super curly hair, and these cute eyebrows. He’s drunk as hell and ranting to the bartender about capitalism, bro_ —and everything falls into place.

“You’re the hot guy from the club?” Even asks Jonas, and Jonas laughs but nods meekly. Isak looks over at Mikael, who looks rather sheepish and nervous. “Well, damn. We’ve got two sets of soulmates here today!” He laughs, wrapping his arm around Isak’s waist like they’ve been boyfriends for months. Isak doesn’t mind.

That breaks the awkward tension, everyone laughing and talking about what a coincidence it was. Even and Isak sit on one side of the booth, Jonas and Mikael on the other, and they just talk. Get to know each other. Isak falls more...in love?...with Even with every word he says, about film or art or just some stupid banter. And Even, Isak notices, always tightens his grip on Isak’s thigh (where his hand had been a steady presence since they’d sat down) when Isak speaks. It’s nice.

Isak also notices the shy, fond glances between Mikael and Jonas. They’re less noticeable than Even and Isak, but they’re there, and Isak feels a strange sense of pride. Here they are, two guys who were ‘straight’ not even three years ago, now sitting with two of the hottest boys on the planet who, by some glitch in the universe, _like them back_.

Isak barely eats his food, because he would much rather talk to Even. They seem to be in the same boat because Even’s plate ends up being just as full as Isak’s when it’s finally time to pay. They just laugh about it, and when Even gets up from the booth, he holds his hand out to help Isak. He doesn’t let go when Isak stands up, just holds tighter, lacing their fingers together and smiling at Isak as if to ask if that’s okay.

It’s more than okay.

They stop just outside the diner, Isak’s back against the wall as Even stands in front of him, their fingers laced together with both hands now. “This was fun,” Even says, and Isak hums in agreement. “I feel like I’ve known you for a lot longer than just a day. Or, well, just a morning.”

“Me too,” Isak says, and Even steps just that little bit closer. Isak tilts his chin, tries to get a kiss. Even doesn’t oblige. “I think it’s a universe thing. Like, maybe we know each other in a parallel universe. So even though we’ve just met in this one, in another one, we could be married with five children. You know?”

“Parallel universes?” Even asks, and Isak nods, tilting his chin up even more. By the way Even smirks, he knows exactly what Isak is asking for. “You’ll have to teach me about them. I don’t know very much,” he adds, his voice lower and softer now as he steps even closer.

“I’m not going to beg you to kiss me, you egg,” Isak says, because it’s been too long and Even still won’t fucking kiss him.

Even laughs, moving so his hands are on Isak’s hips. “Your wish is my command, you dick crumpet,” Even murmurs before finally pressing their lips together. It’s a sweet and sensual kiss for about three seconds, before Isak thinks about the fact that Even called him a dick crumpet and he called Even an _egg_ , and he ends up giggling into the kiss.

But Even is laughing too, and their kiss becomes just them laughing into each other’s mouths.

It’s the best first kiss Isak has ever had.

“We should get back to Mikael and Jonas. I’m sure they don’t want to watch us attempt to make out,” Isak murmurs, resting his hand on the nape of Even’s neck, twirling the hair there around the tips of his fingers.

Even just smiles. “I don’t think they’re too concerned about us,” he murmurs, and Isak raises his eyebrows. He turns his head to see Jonas and Mikael pretty much in the same position they are, except they’re doing a lot more kissing and a lot less talking.

“Oh,” Isak says lamely. “Good for them.”

“Yeah, good for them.”

Isak turns back to Even, tilts his chin up again. Even doesn’t make him wait for kisses this time. Isak’s back presses against the brick as they unashamedly make out, too, right in public where anyone can walk by. It feels like just the two of them, though.

“Let’s get out of here,” Even mumbles against his lips, “they won’t miss us.”

Isak nods, dropping his hands so they go into Even’s back pockets. He grips tightly, pulls Even closer and closer. “I have a room key,” Isak breathes, and Even practically runs back to the hotel with him.

Braiding his hair, cuddling him all day, and spending their first Christmas together will have to come later. Isak doesn’t mind. He can be pretty patient when he has to be. Like when he’s sat in a bathroom stall listening to some Norwegian stranger yell at his friend, risking contracting toilet bowl syphilis just to avoid embarrassing himself.

Yeah. Isak can wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you all enjoyed this, especially my friends in skamfiction who wanted more.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr: femmevilde


End file.
